


The Bond-Holmes Agreement

by lucienne



Category: Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Bondlock, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Q, M/M, Meeting the Family, Overprotective Holmes Brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucienne/pseuds/lucienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The brilliant Quartermaster was also dating MI6’s most infamous, dangerous and volatile agent: James Bond. Dealing with both of them gave M a headache to cry for. Established Relationship for everyone and who wouldn't want to see overprotective Mycroft and Sherlock?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bond-Holmes Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> I've no idea if I would add more chapters to this or not. I own nothing.

They said that the current Quartermaster of MI6 was the best they’ve had in a long time, considering she was also the youngest in the history of Britain. The brain of a top grade genius, physique of an international model, working hours of a great Department Head and tea drinking capacity of a true born Brit.

 

“When you turn right, you’ll find an exit door that will lead you to the canal. Follow it.” Q ran her fingers over her curly hair, leaving it unkempt and sticking in different directions. It was 11 pm and she’s had her third mug of Earl Grey for the hour.

 

It couldn't be helped since she had to assist James who was in Prague, eliminating a group of vigilantes that were slowly injecting themselves into the Czech government. Q continued tapping codes into her computer as CCTV around Prague connected to her system. From there she could see James running inside the canal and when he reached the end it was a relatively busy road. Mission accomplished.

 

"Pick up will be coming from your left—right there."

 

" _Thank you, Quartermaster_." There was a playfulness in James' voice.

 

"Always happy to deliver, 007. I do hope you're thankful enough to return my equipment unscathed such as yourself." Q raised a manicured eyebrow.

 

James hummed. " _I love it when you talk dirty_." Q chuckled before beginning to gather her things and placed them inside her satchel.

 

"I'll be waiting for you at home." was the last thing Q told Bond in a low, inviting voice, before turning off the system.

 

The brilliant Quartermaster was also dating MI6’s most infamous, dangerous and volatile agent: James Bond. Dealing with both of them gave M a headache to cry for.

 

*

 

When Q was inside their flat (her flat recently turned into ‘their’ flat), she first shucked off the white cardigan she had on, leaving only a strapless dress, as well as leaving her black pumps by the sofa. It’s not like she gave effort to being pretty—however conceited that sounded.

 

Q actually didn’t get how men think sometimes. She goes to work with the first thing she sees when she opens her closet, slips on the cardigan she wore the day before and adjusts her glasses, not even having the time to comb her hair properly anymore.

 

‘ _Maybe it’s your attitude. Some guys like feisty women._ ’ James had told her once, but he was leaving kisses on her neck at that time so that didn’t count.

 

She went to their kitchen to pour herself a glass of champagne and another for James when he returned after an hour or two. Q aimlessly walked around their flat while carefully sipping her drink, noticing a few items askew, like her books in the wrong order or the certain shiny look of a pot that’s rarely been touched. It must’ve been James’ doing.

 

The thought of James made her smile, which was ridiculous and it felt silly since she was the only one there, but she couldn’t help but be giddy at the thought of the obnoxious man. Q giggled at the rim of her glass as she remembered the first time they met, not really realizing that they would end up what they were now.

 

James told Q a few months after they’ve been together that he honestly thought she was a mark, come to take vengeance for her lover that he killed and now came to assassinate him in that museum when he was staring at the painting with the huge boat on it.

 

Q told him his imagination was too vivid.

 

_“007, I’m your new Quartermaster.” Q had said in all nonchalance when she was sitting beside him._

_“You must be joking.” He scoffed then._

_“Why, because I’m not wearing a lab coat? Age is no guarantee of efficiency.”_

_James looked at her fully then. “And youth is no guarantee of innovation.”_

_“Well, I’ll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pajamas before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.”_

_James didn’t look fazed at that time, but he said otherwise when they were talking about it._

_“Q.”_

_“007.”_

James said that he was pretty turned on after that particular conversation. Q teased him for being too easy to manipulate.

 

Huh, actually, the two of them were heading here sooner or later. James didn’t do relationship ever since Vesper (yes, Q knew about her), and Q didn’t do it because relationships were tedious and a hindrance to her work and Q was all about her work. Maintaining a relationship was just dangerous and annoying.

 

‘ _But James is worth all the annoyance_ ,’ her brain supplied, to which she nodded in agreement to.

 

And the danger…well, they were both fond of danger to some extent. Even someone who was mostly in MI6 HQ was prepped for anything that might happen. Such as the bombing of HQ a few years back.

 

Q waved off all the thoughts of bombing away from her slowly clouding head as she entered their bedroom. She could perfectly see James holding her down against the mattress while she grunted and ordered him to go faster, their deep breaths blending in unison. Her fingers touched the tip of the duvet, smiling fondly while her brain was filled with nothing but James.

 

Q brought her drink to the bathroom to have a quick shower before the man arrived. When she came out she felt more relaxed, toweling her short hair dry.

 

The glass of half-finished champagne was placed on their bedside table as Q walked towards her closet. In the lower left drawer was where she placed her intimates and beyond that was where her lingerie was carefully stacked.

 

Now the Quartermaster wasn’t a fan of such things before, but when she found out Bond’s penchant for such silly things, she couldn’t stop spoiling him. Q could still remember how long they went at it the first time she wore one to their bedroom, the look of desire on her agent’s face. Q was ecstatic and hadn’t stopped buying since.

 

She looked at one after the other, occasionally feeling the silk or lace and admiring the different hues of red and blue and white and green. James’s favorite ones (of course) were the lacy black ones. Q pulled out one she hasn’t used in a while. A black sweetheart two piece cut that didn’t make her look as flat chested as she was, the bra going just a little past her breasts, exposing her flat navel. The underwear was connected to red strings that would hold up panty hose if she wanted to wear any, but looked just as gorgeous without them.

 

Q dropped the towel just to try them on and see if they fit (no, really) and when she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror.

 

The lingerie still fit her perfectly she observed as she ran her finger through each rib and detail, still feeling something quite missing. Q rushed to the bathroom, bare foot padding through the tiled floor before she took off her glasses.

 

The Quartermaster really, really hated contacts.

 

They were such a hassle to put in and most of the time when you didn’t put it in right, it felt as if you poked your eye with the tip of a pencil. Those were the little sacrifices she had to tolerate, however, since she wouldn’t risk breaking a pair of her glasses every time she and James were to have sex.

 

“Ow, shit,” She cussed after she sort of successfully placed both lenses. Q blinked a few times to clear her obscured view. Besides, she preferred wearing the damn things over not seeing James’ face whenever he came undone. Sacrifices, she reminded herself.

 

The click of the door was too soft to be heard by normal people, but Q was MI6 _and_ Quartermaster and the sound was just as loud to her as it would any other agent. Q grinned. James would always try to surprise her but she always caught him in the end. With one final glance at the mirror, Q turned to greet her lover.

 

“You took so long,” Q walked slowly to the sitting room where she knew James would be holding the champagne flute she left him. “I was beginning to think I went through all this trouble for noth—“ Q’s eyes threatened to pop out of her skull. “SHERLOCK, WHAT THE _BLOODY HELL_ ARE YOU DOING IN MY FLAT?”

 

Sherlock looked up from where he was carefully seated on one side of the couch.

 

“And I see you brought Dr Watson. Good evening, John.” Q nodded at John who was beside Sherlock, looking apologetic and uncomfortable at the same time.

 

“So sorry to barge in like this Quentine but Sherlock insisted—“

 

“Where is he?” Sherlock demanded, narrowing his sharp eyes at Q. Q paused for a moment before sighing. _Of course he knew_. Before Q could stop him, Sherlock was already neck deep in explaining his deductions.

 

“The other day I was passing by your flat—“ “Intentionally stopped by,” John quipped. “—when I noticed that there were mud splatters all over the front door of your building. It was wide and long, most likely a man’s. It was neither the married man in his 40s on the 2nd floor, nor wasn’t the Uni student on the 5th, I’ve stashed all the information concerning them in my head for future purposes and I can safely say that they did not leave the mud splatters.

 

“Highly unlikely that they were visitors of the other residents of this building because I carefully checked all of the doorknobs for finger prints. The tips on the fingers and length of the foot follows a ratio pattern you see, and once again none of them show the correct indicators. When I went to check yours—“ “I was the one who checked them.” John but in again and this time Sherlock threw him a look. “—there were multiple prints on the door and the glass wall.”

 

Q had already settled on her couch after Sherlock’s third word. He kept on talking and talking that he didn’t even notice when she began chatting with John.

 

“I’d have thought you being together would change him.” Q complained.

 

“I couldn’t change him even if I tried. God you have no idea what it’s like to wake up to him playing the violin at 2 in the morning.”

 

Q sighed. “I know, I’ve had my fair share of it.”

 

“—and now you’re wearing clothing that _obviously_ isn’t for your self-esteem whatsoever, so of course you’re waiting for someone and John and I refuse to leave until we meet him.” Sherlock finished with a flourish. Q was just completely bored. When was James gonna come home?

 

“Look, Sherl,” Q began. “If you asked, I would’ve told you, but in the right time.” A worried look past through the woman’s face. “Please don’t tell Mycroft yet.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mycroft’s on his way.”

 

“ _What_?!” Q’s facial expression changed from frantic to worry to wanting to kill Sherlock. “Why would you tell him?!”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and removed a lint on his coat. “Quentine, really. A few years in MI6 and your brain has gone utterly dull.” John rolled his eyes but said nothing. He really felt sorry for the girl, but Sherlock couldn’t be convinced to do otherwise at this point. “Of course I didn’t tell Mycroft. I’m assuming he found out the same time as I did.”

 

And of course Sherlock was rarely wrong because a few minutes later there was a buzz on the door.

 

“At least Mycroft had the decency to knock.” Q glared at Sherlock as she stood up to get the door.

 

“You should really be more kind to her, Sherlock.” John chastised with a disapproving frown.

 

Quentine walked back to the sitting room with Mycroft and Greg following behind her. Mycroft cast a single look to Sherlock’s general direction and John took note of the way his eyebrow twitched.

 

“I didn’t think it was family gathering season.” Mycroft looked down at Sherlock with his chin tilted upward like he usually did. “I apologize for being late.”

 

“Lestrade what are you doing here?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the Detective. He didn’t reply immediately, choosing to look over the flat.

 

“We were uh, having dinner.”

 

“I hope the sight of my sister in lingerie won’t further excite you.” Sherlock snarked.

 

“Sherlock!” John and Q shouted at him. Mycroft shook his head at Sherlock before sitting down, patting the seat beside him for Greg.

 

“Sorry for barging in like this, Q.” Q was happy that Greg called her by her alias. It comforted her a little bit. Even James rarely called her Quentine since the name brought all the wrong memories of an early childhood in the Holmes Mansion. Q smiled sadly, before turning to frown at both her brothers.

 

“Well,” She started, “Now that both of you are aware of my relationship, I see no other reason why you should be here.”

 

“I think you mean, now that we’re here, we can officially meet your… _partner_.” Mycroft chocked on the last word and Greg and John had to hold back unmanly giggles.

 

Q pinched the bridge of her nose, just below her eyeglasses. So much for her wonderfully planned evening with James.

 

“I don’t mean to but in or anything since family issues but Q’s old enough to make her own decisions.” Greg looked around the room, checking to see if anyone agreed with him. He was relieved to find John nodding with his word. “The both of you should’ve waited for her to tell you, yeah?”

 

“Your way of thinking is mundane, Lestrade, how on earth does my brother stand you?”

 

“Sherlock,” John warned but Sherlock blissfully ignored him.

 

“Of course you won’t understand, you haven’t got the slightest idea how irresponsible Quentine can be.”

 

“Hey!” Q piped in. “I’m 23 for goodness sake, Sherlock.” She turned to her other brother. “Myc, do something. You know that if I didn’t want you both to meet him, I really _will not_ let you meet him.” The woman narrowed her eyes at her brother, being both determined and a visual representation of power. Definitely a Holmes.

 

Mycroft placed his hand on Greg’s leg. “Don’t mind Sherlock, darling, you know how he is.” Greg murmured something about being used to it while John began scolding Sherlock about his interaction with people yet again. Q watched as Mycroft finished speaking to Greg with a kiss, before the Detective stood up from his seat. As did John.

 

“We’ll uh, put the kettle on I guess while you…” John gestured at the siblings. “…sort this out.” Before he left, he patted Sherlock’s cheek and gave him a peck. “Play nice.” And it was just Q, Sherlock and Mycroft left.

 

The moment the two men left, Mycroft immediately turned to Sherlock.

 

“Stop being so immature, Sherlock. I don’t appreciate you speaking to Gregory so rudely.” The eldest said.

 

Sherlock scoffed as his eyes wandered around the room non committedly. “I’ve been talking to him in that manner years before you were shagging.”

 

“Really, Sherl. Since when have you become so crass?” Q butted in, flipping her hair subconsciously. “Ever since you’ve been with your good doctor? Bad influence to you isn’t he?” The woman mocked.

 

“Don’t speak to John like that.” Sherlock growled.

 

“SEE? What do you think I feel whenever you flaunt your genius over Gregory?” Mycroft’s voice raised an octave with his frustration with the middle Holmes. “You’ve always been the most difficult, Sherlock.”

 

“Even mummy said so.” Q said under her breath while she went around looking for her phone. This banter was boring her. Where was James?

“Don’t bring mummy into this, Quentine. After all, don’t forget that the reason why we’re all here is because of your secret shag mate.” Sherlock said.

 

In the kitchen, John was grabbing mugs from the cupboard while Greg was sitting on the counter, watching John.

 

“They really get into bloody awful fights do they?” Greg wrinkled his nose. John chuckled.

 

“That’s what you get for placing three of the greatest geniuses of the country in one room.”

 

Greg quickly glanced back at the three gathered around the couch.

 

“This isn’t the first time I’m meeting Q but I actually don’t know that much about her.”

 

John continued by filling the kettle with water and went to look for tea leaves. He opened the cupboard finding nothing but Earl Grey. Hm, guess that’ll have to do.

 

“Quite brilliant actually, but to be expected of a Holmes.” They both snickered at John’s reply, knowing exactly what it meant. “Recruited by MI6 at 18 when she’s just finished her masters.”

 

Greg’s eyes widened. “Masters and MI6 at _18_?” There was a pause. “But then again if Myc wanted it he would’ve been MI6 too. As well as Sherlock.”

 

John hummed in agreement. “Yes but Quentine specializes in technology and weapons development, something that was uniquely her what with Mycroft and his politics and Sherlock with his sleuthing.” There was a comfortable silence as they waited for the water to boil, the light thrum of the Holmes’ banter still going on and on.

 

“It’s actually interesting that she’s found someone.” John said after a while, placing tea inside each mug. Greg got down from the counter and gave him a hand.

 

“I thought Sherlock said it’s nothing more than a shag?”

 

“I doubt it. If it was just a shag she wouldn’t be this hell bent on keeping it from her brothers.” John actually had knowledge of Q’s…stress relieving methods because of Sherlock and his overprotectiveness.

 

Greg grinned. “Mycroft and Sherlock. Didn’t think they were the type to have a sister complex.” He and John were laughing as they brought out steaming mugs of tea from the kitchen. Q looked pleased as she took the mug from Greg, uttering a light, “Thank you”. Greg handed one to Mycroft who gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

 

“John, I want tea too.” Sherlock pouted when John gave him none.

 

“Not until you apologize to Mycroft, Greg and Q for being so rude.”

 

“This is childish.”

 

“We’re dealing with a child.” Greg smirked. Sherlock didn’t look pleased at all. “I’ll have you know that I—“

 

Sherlock was cut off when they heard the front door open and then close, before a suit wearing James Bond walked in on the scene. It was funny really, how James saw four unknown men drinking tea in his sitting room with Q, who was wearing nothing but black underwear. He raised an eyebrow when no one said a word. Q was the first to get back to her bearings as she jumped up from her seat and rushed to the agent.

 

“James!” She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him square in the lips. James brought the woman closer by her waist, both of them momentarily forgetting that they had company.

 

“Q,” James whispered against the woman’s face when they broke apart. “Do you mind explaining—“

 

Ever the respectable Mycroft stood up from his seat and approached the couple.

 

“Quentine, please put on some clothes.” Mycroft said, never looking away from Bond. The agent held the other’s gaze without saying a word either. Q was just annoyed.

 

“Unnecessary, Myc, considering the only straight man in this room is my boyfriend.” Q replied without even blinking.

 

Mycroft stretched his hand out. “Mycroft Holmes,” James shook it firmly. “James Bond.”

 

“James Bond?” That was Sherlock, who joined them as well. “Agent 007? Q are you trying to get yourself killed by being with this man?”

 

“Okay, that’s it, time out.” John grabbed Sherlock’s arm and dragged him back to the sofa.

 

“Sit down there and don’t say a word until I say so.”

 

“John don’t be so melodramatic—“ “I said until _I say so_.” Sherlock immediately closed his mouth. John nodded and turned to James.

 

“Colonel Bond.” He grinned at the man. James’ eyes showed surprise but was gone in a second, replaced by warm nostalgia.

 

“Commander Watson.” James nodded and they both saluted to each other in greeting. Q giggled, arms around the agent’s waist. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” James chuckled.

 

“James, I’d like to meet my brother Mycroft,” James and Mycroft exchanged a stiff nod. “And his partner Greg Lestrade. Scotland Yard.” The two men shook hands while Greg greeted him with, “Nice to meet you, mate.”

 

“You already know John Watson,” James nodded at this. “He and I go way back, don’t we Watson?”

 

“John, stop doing that obnoxious high pitched laugh you do you know how it annoys me.” Sherlock shouted from where he was left in the sofa, actually doing what John told him to do.

 

Q rolled her eyes. “And my other brother, Sherlock.”

 

“Does he always—“ James started, but Q cut him off.

 

“Okay! Now you’ve all met, please will you get out of our flat now?” Q pleaded.

 

“Nonsense. Now that James has arrived we have much to talk about.” Mycroft supplied, returning to his seat and tea on the sofa. “Sherlock stop sulking, it’s unbecoming.” John and Greg joined them.

 

Q and James were momentarily away from earshot.

 

“I’m sorry. They broke in and—“ Bond pushed Q’s glasses up further to  her nose.

 

“It’s alright. I was beginning to wonder when I would meet the infamous Holmes brothers. Mallory’s acquainted with Mycroft, I think he mentioned him once.” James reassured the woman.

 

“Mycroft is like the British Government. He’s big on those things.” Q bit her lip. “And if Sherlock says anything not nice—most of the things he’ll say won’t be nice—just ignore him. Think about what John has to deal with.”

 

James turned to watch John coax Sherlock out of his gloomy cloud with a new mug of tea and kisses and whispers in his ear. “They look pretty in love don’t they?”

 

“Mm, so does Mycroft and Greg. It’s all quite sickening actually.” Q placed her hand on Bond’s chest, feeling the softness of the agent’s neck tie. “It made me think of you, and why you took an eternity to get home.”

 

“The traffic was horrible.” They were both barely whispering now. “I do think you should listen to your brother, however.” James’ lips were now against Quentine’s ear and she shivered at the sound of his voice. “You should really wear something more substantial or I might display an act that your brothers will wring my head for.”

 

Q feigned pouting. “After all the trouble I went through.” James grinned and he licked the shell of his lover’s ear.

 

“Your efforts will be rewarded soon, Quartermaster.”

 

“Hey you two! Who owns this glass of champagne here?” John shouted. “Can we open up another bottle?”

 

Q gave James one more kiss before he dragged him over to the sofa along with the rest of the family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would be lovely.


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